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Before you read

Do you know what a diary is? It is a record of personal

experiences written day after day over a long period

of time. You can also use a diary to note down things

you plan to do immediately or in future.

One of the most famous diaries published as a book is

The Diary of Anne Frank.

Here are a few extracts from Ruskin Bond’s diary in

which he portrays the silent miracles of nature and

life’s little joys and regrets. Read on.

June 24

The first day of monsoon mist. And it’s strange how all

the birds fall silent as the mist comes climbing up the

hill. Perhaps that’s what makes the mist so melancholy;

not only does it conceal the hills, it blankets them in

silence too. Only an hour ago the trees were ringing

with birdsong. And now the forest is deathly still as

though it were midnight.

Through the mist Bijju is calling to his sister. I can

hear him running about on the hillside but I cannot

see him.

melancholy:

very sad (the

mist is called

melancholy

because it

makes people

feel

melancholy)

blankets:

covers

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A Short Monsoon Diary

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June 25

Some genuine early-

monsoon rain, warm

and humid, and not

that cold high-altitude

stuff we’ve been having

all year. The plants

seem to know it too,

and the first cobra lily

rears its head from the

ferns as I walk up to the

bank and post office.

The mist affords a

certain privacy.

A school boy asked

me to describe the hill

station and valley in

one sentence, and all I could say was: “A paradise that

might have been.”

June 27

The rains have heralded the arrival of some seasonal

visitors—a leopard, and several thousand leeches.

Yesterday afternoon the leopard lifted a dog from near

the servants’ quarter below the school. In the evening it

attacked one of Bijju’s cows but fled at the approach of

Bijju’s mother, who came screaming imprecations.

As for the leeches, I shall soon get used to a little

bloodletting every day.

Other new arrivals are the scarlet minivets (the

females are yellow), flitting silently among the leaves

like brilliant jewels. No matter how leafy the trees, these

brightly coloured birds cannot conceal themselves,

although, by remaining absolutely silent, they

sometimes contrive to go unnoticed. Along come a pair

of drongos, unnecessarily aggressive, chasing the

minivets away.

fern:

a flowerless

plant with

feathery green

leaves

heralded:

announced or

brought the

news of

imprecations:

curses

bloodletting:

losing blood

(Decades ago,

leeches were

used to

remove blood

from a

patient’s body)

scarlet

minivet:

bright red bird

like a cuckoo

drongo:

a song-bird

with a stout

bill

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Honeydew

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A tree creeper moves rapidly up the trunk of the

oak tree, snapping up insects all the way. Now that

the rains are here, there is no dearth of food for the

insectivorous birds.

Comprehension Check

1. Why is the author not able to see Bijju?

2. What are the two ways in which the hills appear to change

when the mist comes up?

August 2

All night the rain has been drumming on the

corrugated tin roof. There has been no storm, no

thunder, just the steady swish of a tropical downpour.

It helps me to lie awake; at the same time, it doesn’t

keep me from sleeping.

It is a good sound to read by — the rain outside, the

quiet within — and, although tin roofs are given to

springing unaccountable leaks, there is a feeling of being

untouched by, and yet in touch with, the rain.

August 3

The rain stops. The clouds begin to break up, the sun

strikes the hill on my left. A woman is chopping up

sticks. I hear the tinkle of cowbells. In the oak tree, a

crow shakes the raindrops from his feathers and caws

disconsolately. Water drips fr

om a leaking drainpipe.

And suddenly, clean and pure, the song of the whistling

thrush emerges like a dark sweet secret from the depths

of the ravine.

August 12

Endless rain, and a per

manent mist. W

e haven’t seen

the sun for eight or nine days. Everything damp and

soggy. Nowhere to go. Pace the room, look out of the

window at a few bobbing umbrellas. At least it isn’t cold

drumming:

falling noisily

disconsolately:

unhappily

ravine:

valley

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A Short Monsoon Diary

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rain. The hillsides are lush

as late-monsoon flowers

begin to appear — wild

balsam, dahlias, begonias

and ground orchids.

August 31

It is the last day of August,

and the lush monsoon

growth has reached its

peak. The seeds of the

cobra lily are turning red,

signifying that the rains are coming to an end.

In a few days the ferns will start turning yellow, but

right now they are still firm, green and upright. Ground

orchids, mauve lady’s slipper and the white butterfly

orchids put on a fashion display on the grassy slopes of

Landour. Wild dahlias, red, yellow and magenta, rear

their heads from the rocky crevices where they have

taken hold.

Snakes and rodents, flooded out of their holes and

burrows, take shelter in roofs, attics and godowns. A

shrew, weak of eyesight, blunders about the rooms,

much to the amusement of the children.

“Don’t kill it,” admonishes their grandmother.

“

Chuchundars

are lucky — they bring money!”

And sure enough, I receive a cheque in the mail. Not

a very large one, but welcome all the same.

October 3

We have gone straight fr

om monsoon into winter rain.

Snow at higher altitudes.

After an evening hailstorm, the sky and hills are

suffused with a beautiful golden light.

crevices:

narrow

openings or

cracks in rock

or wall

shrew:

(find its Hindi

equivalent in

the next

sentence)

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January 26

Winter Rains in the Hills

In the hushed silence of the house

when I am quite alone, and my friend,

who was here

has gone, it is very lonely, very quiet,

as I sit in a liquid silence, a silence

within,

surrounded by the rhythm of rain,

the steady drift

of water on leaves, on lemons, on roof,

drumming on drenched dahlias and

window panes,

while the mist holds the house in a dark

caress.

As I pause near a window, the rain stops.

And starts again.

And the trees, no longer green but grey,

menace me with their loneliness.

March 23

Late March. End of winter.

The blackest cloud I’ve ever seen squatted over

Mussoorie, and then it hailed marbles for half an hour.

Nothing like a hailstorm to clear the sky. Even as I write,

I see a rainbow forming.

USKIN

BOND

Comprehension Check

1. When does the monsoon season begin and when does it end?

How do you prepare to face the monsoon?

2. Which hill-station does the author describe in this diary entry?

3. For how many days does it rain without stopping? What does

the author do on these days?

4. Where do the snakes and rodents take shelter? Why?

5. What did the author receive in the mail?

caress:

touching or

holding

lovingly

menace:

threaten

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